Page 46 of Wrecked for Love (Buffaloberry Hill #1)
ELIA
I opened my eyes to a blinding sea of white.
For a second, I expected to find myself in a coffin, or maybe I’d already moved on.
But the gates of heaven—or hell—quickly gave way to the worried face of Logan Pierce.
My best friend, too hazy to be real, stared down at me.
For a moment, I wondered if we were both caught in some altered reality.
Things slowly began to come into focus.
“El! El!” Logan’s voice trembled as he fussed beside the bed. Moments later, a group of medical staff swarmed in.
They ran through the standard battery of tests, asking the usual concussion questions, but I couldn’t answer. My mouth was too mangled to form the words, so they checked my vitals instead.
“Everything looks good,” the doctor said after a beat. “We’ll check on him again in an hour.”
Logan exhaled a long breath, his shoulders sagging. “El…I thought I’d lost you.”
I managed a low groan, my body too heavy to do much else. I tried to raise my hand toward the glass of water on the tray, but even that was too much. Logan caught the gesture and grabbed it before guiding the straw to my lips so I could sip.
“Hank was worried when you just disappeared—something about Fritzy,” Logan continued. “We scoured the town and found you dumped in a ditch by The Lazy Moose gate, wrapped in a bedroll. I’m surprised they let you live, let alone left you where you’d be found.”
They’d made sure I wouldn’t freeze to death—some twisted act of mercy. Lucien Voss had likely been content just watching me in the fight; he’d said I’d entertained him. Now, knowing he wanted me breathing, I couldn’t figure out his next move.
“It was them, wasn’t it? The Vosses?” Log asked.
I blinked, confirming his suspicion.
He shook his head. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two days.”
It hit me like a freight train.
Two days?
The seriousness of my injuries sank in, but there was something worse. My sluggish mind fought to piece things together. And then it struck me.
Claire!
I tried to push myself up, but my body was a dead weight. “Claire…” I groaned, trying to force my limbs to move. But by the devil’s breath, I couldn’t.
“El! Hey! You stay down!” Logan’s tone turned sharp, no-nonsense.
I didn’t need my friend to tell me. I was no match for my own body’s rebellion.
“I know you’re worried about Claire. The police are already looking.
Let them do their job while you rest. For God’s sake, El, have you even counted how many ribs you’ve got left under your damn hide? ”
I couldn’t even cry even if I wanted to. Everything was so messed up. The police? What the hell could they do? Patrol around, flash a few lights, and head back to their cozy little station? That wouldn’t help Claire.
Two days. Two goddamn days. Claire could be anywhere by now.
“No police,” I labored. “Or the mess will get bigger.” Logan brought the water back to my lips, and I forced myself to push more words out. “She hit Armand with a hammer. That fucking slime attacked her.”
“Shit, El! Are you saying Armand Voss is dead?”
“No,” I exhaled. “In wheelchair.”
“Fuck…” Log sighed, grimacing as if he felt for both of us. “We can’t handle this ourselves, man. We need help.”
“The Vosses aren’t gonna give her up.” This time, I managed to utter a whole sentence without agonizing my best friend. “And the police will only care about arresting her.”
Suddenly, we heard voices outside the door. Someone was insisting, “You’ve got to tell them the truth!”
Logan swung the door open. Annette and Daniel stood there.
“Annette? Daniel?” Logan asked, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Daniel—I’d seen him around town on his bike, doing deliveries. I’d heard he had a learning disability, but he was a good kid.
“Daniel! You’ve got to tell them!” Annette pressed.
“Uh…sir…” Daniel stammered, looking down at the floor, not ready to face either Logan or me.
“Daniel, you’re not in trouble,” Logan said, his tone gentle.
“I…I…um…I’ve been delivering those notes to you,” Daniel confessed, finally making fleeting eye contact with me. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know it would be like this.” He now really stared at me.
I blinked, hoping the kid understood that none of this was his fault.
Daniel continued, “When I picked up those notes, I overheard some people talking about New York. There was a big guy—just got in from the city.”
It had to be Saxum. But then, something else clicked—the cleaner. What if he was from the East Coast, too, just like Saxum? He’d shown up late at The Cove, probably after his prized fighter missed his check-in.
I closed my eyes, piecing it all together.
The cleaner hadn’t been leering at Claire like some creep—he’d recognized her.
And right there, he’d tipped off Lucien Voss.
I was sure of it now. Whether he was tied to The Revenants or had caught wind of the Brentwood massacre and Dr. Ashbourne’s murder didn’t matter. The damage was done.
“They were in a house. It’s big, but dark. I don’t know the exact address, but I can draw you a map,” Daniel offered innocently.
Logan grabbed a piece of paper—probably a form or some info sheet—from the small table by the window. “Here. Draw.”
Daniel sketched a map. “If this is the garden center, head south, then west,” he explained, though “west” had some turns. “There are two huge ponderosa pines and a green metal fence.”
I studied the map, which was clear enough to follow.
Daniel stayed silent again, his eyes darting nervously.
“Go on! Tell the rest!” Annette urged, giving his shoulder a shake.
“Um…I saw Miss Claire at The Willow,” Daniel finally said.
The words hit me like a jolt of electricity, and I instinctively tried to sit up, only to be forced back down by the sharp pain.
“You mean just now?” Logan probed.
Daniel shook his head. “That afternoon, after she went shopping at the garden center. She forgot to take the sunflower seeds with her, so Mrs. Dobson asked me to deliver them to her house.”
The memory slotted into place. That was why I’d found the pack of sunflower seeds on the ground at my feet when I took Claire back to The Willow after the incident.
Daniel continued, “When I got there, I saw the other big guy, the one who’s now bandaged and in a wheelchair.”
“Armand Voss?” Logan asked.
“I don’t know his name. He was attacking Miss Claire, but she fought back. I was scared, so I hid. Miss Claire drove off, and just when I was about to leave, another car pulled up, and two men took that big man away.”
Logan kept speaking to the boy on my behalf. “Thank you, Daniel. Do you know anything else about that man from New York?”
He shook his head.
Logan sighed, his tone too forced, trying too hard to convince me. “El, let the sheriff take it from here. We’ve got a witness—proof Claire was innocent. She hit Armand in self-defense!”
I tucked the map under my pillow, not trusting Logan to keep the cops out of this. He meant well, but I couldn’t risk it. If the Vosses got spooked, Claire would disappear, and I’d be back to square one.
After Daniel and Annette left, Logan continued his warning, “If you walk out of here like this, you’ll be worse off than a Walking Dead extra.”
My body was wrecked, my mind teetering on the edge, but none of that mattered. Not the blood in my throat, the pounding in my skull, or the searing pain with every breath. The only thing I cared about—the only thing I could see—was Claire. And I would tear through anyone who stood in my way.
Walking dead or not, I’d crawl out of this hospital if I had to. Because against all odds, I wasn’t letting her go.